My Angel
by Austin Blake
Summary: Drusilla and Angelus make their new home in Los Angeles. Sort of a POV story with Drusilla's protective thoughts about Angelus, and how she's not going to play second banana to the girl who took Angel's soul.


DISCLAIMER: If it's yours, it isn't mine.  
DEDICATION: Molly, the ever so wonderful lady who inspired me to torture Buffy immensely in my upcoming story, but mostly influences my fluff/smut between Buffy and Angel.  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This has no timeline, nor does it go by any episodes. Just The Scourge of Europe with his demented Childe. This, in addition to being an Angelus/Drusilla fic, is also kind of an Angel/Fred story. You'll see what I mean.  
  
  
  
  
  
MY ANGEL  
  
It was a balmy night in Los Angeles, not a cloud seen in the night sky. Which was just perfect for Drusilla, since the stars crooned such lovely melodies to her, their song uninhibited by her fractured and polluted mind, the absolute evil within tainted by that endearing human trait which The Judge once saw through. The emotion of love was still in her, and in great capacity for the man who tormented her mortal life and made her what she was today. The lack of logic in her feelings towards him was of no concern to her, for she loved her Angel wholeheartedly, if indeed she had a heart. Not even her cherished Spike could take her great Sire's place.  
  
She felt him stir on the bed, and turned away from the window, her long flowing nightgown just as pale as her long-deceased skin. She smiled wickedly, nearly pouncing on the half-sleeping form as her face shifted into that of her demonic visage. Tawny, hunger-filled eyes fell upon cold, chocolate brown ones as he awoke, a crooked smile greeting her way of rousing him up. His eyes softened, almost warmed at her sight. She nuzzled her face into the side of his neck, hands exploring unruly gelled hair and the pleasantly rounded curves of his body, lips brushing against his jugular vein affectionately. He was warmed by his recent feeding, and she purred with delight at the thought of supping from her Sire. As delicious as an unwilling victim was, a willing Sire granted a much better feed.  
  
Angelus stroked the ebony strands of hair on his Childe's head, only making the feral vibration of her purring grow louder. Eager in her craving, she bit him hard, driving her fangs deep into his throat. Angelus kept smiling as he wrapped her hair around his fingers slowly, giving a sudden pull of her mane. Drusilla whimpered at being denied her meal, slightly pouting as she looked at him pleadingly.  
  
"Now, now," Angelus chided playfully, caressing her cheek with the back of his hand, "you finish your meal first, and then dessert."  
  
Drusilla beamed, glancing over to a chair near the door on which Cordelia Chase was tied up, her hands bound behind her and her feet roped to the legs of the chair. Her hair was tousled from a struggle, and bruises covered her once unblemished face. On either side of her lay Wesley Wyndham-Price and Gunn, both resting in a puddle of their own blood, dead. The puddles weren't large, as most of their vital essences had been drained by the ruthless pair, their necks torn apart in the most gruesome and violent manner possible, right down to the blood-spattered white bone of their spinal cords.  
  
She rose to her feet, floating agonizingly slow over to where Cordelia sat, savoring the fear that emanated from the young girl as she shook in terror at her inevitable fate. Drusilla sat in her lap, straddling her as she lowered her lips to the luscious neck below, deliberately prolonging the action to make the experience that much more excruciating. Finally, she drove her fangs into the awaiting morsel, rupturing the major artery and drawing in every crimson drop of the robust coppery fluid that spilled forth so bountifully from her victim. She sucked and she drank, gulping down ounce after ounce of the youthful visionary's blood, slowly depleting her of life. At long last, Drusilla finished, having consumed her feast entirely. Cordelia's body twitched and convulsed as her organs shut down one by one, until she went limp, stilled forever by the unholy action of Angelus' progeny.  
  
Drusilla at once caught a scent, something that was familiar and yet entirely new at the same time. A meek-looking girl entered the room, her blood-stained tee shirt hinting to some fatal injury. Upon further inspection, she spotted several drops of crimson in the corner of the girl's lips, and by scent, they were not from her. The new girl began making her way towards the bed, towards Angelus. Drusilla half-growled, half-purred as she lunged in front of her Sire possessively, glaring at the newcomer as if asserting her territory.  
  
"Easy, baby," Angelus said smoothly, glancing up at the new girl. "It's just Fred. She's your new sister."  
  
Drusilla sniffed lightly, taking in the new scent of the girl. Uncertain, but comforted by Angelus' hand touching the small of her back, she crept up the bed and laid to the left of him, still staring at Fred as if she were an intruder. She couldn't figure out for the unlife of her why Angelus had turned her. Maybe as reward for ridding him of that putrid soul that plagued him for so long. Whatever the case, her Daddy was back, and he had promised her a treat. She had come to collect.  
  
She licked tenderly at the wounds she had inflicted on him before, still watching the girl cautiously as she laid to the left of her Sire. Fred began feeding off of him as well, and Drusilla, feeling the need to compete for her dear Angel's attention as well as establish her position as the Number One Girl in his life, bit down harder on the gashes she previously placed on him. Fred noticed this, but just smiled sweetly, not even shifting into her vampiric guise to drink. She merely nibbled at his skin, lapping up the small rivers of blood that made their escape from the injury.  
  
Drusilla growled, gnawing fiercely at his flesh, puncturing blood vessel after blood vessel, until blood nearly flooded her mouth to overfilling. She felt a deep rumbling radiate from his chest, and smirked at her success in making him purr. Fred's smile faded somewhat, and her face finally contorted into that of the demon within. Her feeding, however, was half-hearted, as if she'd been defeated. Drusilla's face altered back into that of her human facade, and she grinned with pride. She whispered into Angelus' ear, though her eyes locked on Fred's to indicate she was talking to her. In the accent Angelus' always smiled at when he heard, she said, "My Angel..."  
  
Having affirmed her status as head female, Drusilla thought that maybe her new life in Los Angeles wouldn't be so bad after all. In spite of everything, including losing her Grandmummy, she had a new sister and a new baby brother, who would soon join their fold. Plus, the Hyperion Hotel had plenty of windows, so the song of her beloved stars would never be far from her ears.  
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(Review if you read.) 


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